The Alien, The Hunter, and The Soldier
by Slow and Steady Turtle
Summary: After receiving a distress call from a Weyland-Yutani research station, the crew of the Normandy find themselves within a waking nightmare as they desperately try to complete their mission and make it back alive.
1. Chapter 1

**Hope you enjoy!**

 **Mass Effect owned by BioWare**

 **Aliens vs Predator owned by 20** **th** **Century Fox**

 **XXX**

 **Zivos Station, Sigurd's Cradle**

Sergeant Thomson sprinted through the labyrinthine hallways of Zivos Station, short brown hair pasted to her face with sweat. Those _things_ had ambushed her and her men, and she had fled while they were being ripped to pieces. Their agonized screams had followed her as she ran. She had known this job was too good to be true. Just a nice little security job out in the far reaches of the Terminus Systems, guarding a research station. The commander of that particular group of Blue Suns mercenaries, a Batarian by the name of Casik Alaeo, had jumped at the chance to get some easy money, and had accepted Weyland-Yutani's offer without hesitation.

 _Now,_ Sergeant Alyssa Thomson thought to herself, _we're seeing the fine print of the deal._

A faint hissing sound ripped her from her thoughts, alerting her to the danger and causing her to skid to a stop on the smooth, grey floor. Turning around, Carnifex hand cannon at the ready, she stared down the long corridor. Nothing was in sight.

She knew better than to assume it was only her imagination; another one of the creatures had gotten her with that trick, and was also the reason why her helmet was no longer with her. The thing's acidic blood had caught her by surprise and she had just barely managed to tear off her helmet before the acid got onto her skin. Why the thing hadn't killed her then and there was beyond her. It had been wounded, sure. But she had been alone, with no form of backup. It had disappeared into a nearby vent shortly after the brief encounter. She had been left with the after-images of the ebony monstrosity, and the number "3" branded onto its forehead. Thomson hadn't wasted any time sprinting away from that location.

A drop of saliva hit her boot, her eyes widening in horror as the creature's location dawned on her. Thomson threw herself backwards, firing upwards and emptying her clip into the creature's mass. Only half of them hit their target, the other three rounds chipping into the white bulkhead around it. The alien recoiled, shrieking in pain as the mass-accelerated rounds tore into its chest. The alien dropped down from its position, acidic blood hissing into the deck as it dripped from its body.

Thomson pulled the trigger again, aiming at its eye-less face. She cursed at the empty clicking, remembering she had fired all of the rounds in her panicked frenzy. She only now remembered that the lab brainiacs around the station had called the creatures "Xenomorphs." Why she remembered that now of all times, she couldn't say.

The Xenomorph's tail lashed out at her, slapping her gun to the ground before skewering her hand. A spurt of blood chased the bladed tail as it retracted from the wound it had created. It then placed its hands on her shoulders, keeping her in place. She recognized this one. It had the same wounds as the one she shot when she discovered the acidic blood. And the mark of the number 3 was another distinguishing characteristic.

 _What the hell is it doing? Why isn't it killing me?_

The answer to her questions came in the form of a slight skittering noise from just beyond the Xenomorph, the way she had been heading before her second encounter with it. A sudden epiphany hit her. She hadn't been fleeing from it. It had been herding her somewhere, presumably towards where the skittering was coming from.

The Xenomorph moved slightly to the side, hands still holding her. She had just enough time to see a crab-like spider flying towards her face before her world went dark.

XXX

 **Unknown Space**

As the Xenomorph outbreak on the station was getting underway, the station's staff were able to send out a distress signal. Said signal was being broadcast across all frequencies in the hope that someone, _anyone_ , would be around to help them.

The Clan Elder scowled in irritation as the ship's computer deciphered the message. Waeland Yootani; he had dealt with their kind before. The Yautja's scowl deepened. The panicked screeching of the oomans was grating on his ears. The location of the broadcast's origin was found, and the Clan Elder gestured for the helmsman to make the jump to hyperspace. The Yautja nodded, and input the coordinates.

Despite the oomans' incompetence, his warriors would still conduct themselves with honor.

And despite the overwhelming odds, he had no doubt that they would prove victorious.

XXX

 **Skepsis System, Sigurd's Cradle**

"Shepard, I have detected an anomaly."

Commander Jane Shepard groaned in annoyance. Her fiery red hair matched her mood perfectly. She pinched the bridge of her lightly-freckled nose.

"Okay, EDI. What do we have?"

 _If it's another Reaper artifact that has an army of Husks around it I swear to God…_

"There is a distress signal emanating from Zivos Station, relayed via comm buoy. They are broadcasting on all frequencies."

Shepard released the bridge of her nose, emerald eyes narrowing in thought.

"Can you play the message?"

"Affirmative," the A.I. replied.

Moments later, the audio of the distress signal could be heard throughout the CIC. The speaker appeared to be a middle-aged human male, if the voice was to be believed. Gunfire punctuated the speaker's words.

"Mayday! Mayday! This is Director Dio of the Weyland-Yutani research station Zivos. We have an infestation, and request immediate aid! I repeat: we have a- GAA-!"

There was an audible sound of bones splintering, followed by a blood-curdling screech. The recording cut out. A few seconds later, it played back, the loop restarting.

Many of the crew members turned away or looked down in disgust and horror. Shepard clenched her fists.

"Joker," she contacted the pilot.

"What's up, Commander?"

Mouth set in grim determination, the Spectre gave her answer.

"Plot a course for the Mil system."

"Aye, aye, Commander."

Retrieving the Reaper IFF could wait.

XXX

 **Zivos Station**

Specimen 3 felt an odd sense of fulfillment. It had been tasked, along with its siblings, to expand the Hive. To do that, the Hive required more servants. And so, 3 and its siblings broke out of containment to wreak havoc amongst their captors. Now, many hosts lined the interior of the hatcheries, future generations of Kin gestating within them.

3 had joined its siblings on the hunt for the Armed Prey in the hopes of eradicating the threat they posed to the Hive. The Xenomorph and the small group it was a part of effortlessly surrounded and eliminated the majority of the group of Armed Prey. Only one hostile remained; it had fled destruction while its comrades perished. 3 had pursued.

It could have easily killed the Armed Prey. It was going to, until it felt the presence of a Young One, alone and confused, scurrying through the maze-like hallways. 3 had made a decision then. It would assist the Young One in securing a host. Then, it herded the Armed Prey towards the Young One's location. However, in its resolve to not kill the Armed Prey, it had sustained injuries in its first one-on-one encounter with it. 3 couldn't allow the Young One to be harmed.

That's why it disarmed the Armed Prey when the Young One was near. Then, all 3 had to do was keep it in place until the Young One arrived.

Now, the Young One was safely wrapped around the Armed Prey's face, injecting the embryo into its chest cavity. Its duty done, 3 left the Young One to its own devices. There were still more threats to the Hive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Mass Effect owned by BioWare.**

 **Aliens vs Predator owned by 20** **th** **Century Fox.**

 **XXX**

 **Sigurd's Cradle, Mil System**

The Mothership entered the star system, bursting out of hyperspace and travelling on a direct course with the origin of the infamous distress signal. The Yautja ship was illuminated by the fifth planet orbiting the star, a red gas giant, as it drew closer to the signal.

The Mothership's scanners detected a large structure within the system's resident asteroid belt. Upon further investigation, it was discovered that the oomans' message was being transmitted from it. As the ship drew ever closer to the asteroid belt, three objects detached from their parent ship, making a beeline for the space station. Smaller and more maneuverable than the Mothership, the trio of Scout Ships deftly weaved through the asteroids tumbling through space. The parent craft swiftly cloaked itself, ensuring it would not be seen by prying eyes.

Soon enough, the three Yautja spacecraft caught sight of their quarry; the ugliness of the ooman structure was unmistakable. With the grace and precision of a squadron comprised of aces, the Scout Ships simultaneously approached and docked in one of the station's hangar bays. Now, the best of the Clan's warriors would begin their Hunt.

XXX

 **Normandy SR-2, Mil System**

"Hey Joker, doesn't that station look like an upright snail?"

The Normandy's pilot stroked his beard, lips pursed and eyes narrowed in thought.

"… I can see it," he said after a few seconds.

"Shepard."

Shepard jumped a good few feet into the air, the sudden appearance of the ship's AI giving her a miniature heart attack. EDI took notice of the Commander's small panic attack.

"My apologies, Shepard. It was not my intention to startle you."

Shepard waved it off.

"No worries, EDI. I just have to pay better attention to my surroundings."

"You know, one would think a Council Spectre wouldn't get as easily spooked as you, Commander," Joker chimed in.

Shepard's only response was a mirthful glare.

"Anyway, EDI," Shepard said, turning back to the A.I.

"Back to what you originally wanted to tell me about."

"Your team is ready and waiting in the hangar."

Upon receiving this news, Shepard strode purposefully from the Normandy's cockpit with a quick "Thank you" to EDI. Passing the rows of crew members directly outside the helm, she made her way towards the elevator. A farewell from Yeoman Chambers filtered through the closing doors.

XXX

"Fashionably late, as always," commented Garrus as the lift disgorged the Commander.

"Hmph," murmured Grunt.

"As long as the upcoming fight doesn't leave me disappointed, I'll excuse the Battlemaster's tardiness."

Seeing as Shepard and her squad would have to cover a lot of ground while inside Zivos Station, she saw fit to include three more members on the mission. Among those were Justicar Samara, Mordin Solus, and…

"Miranda."

The Cerberus operative turned to regard her superior.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"I see you took me up on my recommendation," the red-haired Spectre said, gesturing to the black-and-gold body armor Miranda was clad in. The operative tilted her head in confusion.

"Which recommendation was that, again?" she asked.

"To wear actual protection," Shepard replied.

Miranda raised an eyebrow at Shepard's choice of words.

"… I know what I said."

"Ladies, ladies," Garrus stepped in.

"There's time for flirting _after_ the mission."

"Shut up," both women replied at the same time.

XXX

The subsequent ride in the Kodiak shuttle was in silence, the previous light-hearted mood now non-existent as the six Normandy crew members prepared themselves for the mission. After being briefed on the nature of their task, Mordin seemed to be the only one excited. Well, him and Grunt, but for different reasons.

"Am interested to see what manner of "infestation" has taken hold of station. Very exciting! Potential for new species-," a sharp intake of air from the Salarian, "Intriguing."

Following Mordin's shattering of the silence that had taken hold of the shuttle, Shepard spoke up, going over their plan once more before they entered the station.

Their goal was to meet up and escort the surviving staff members back to the Normandy via the Kodiak; seeing as Zivos was a rather large construct, the team would save time by splitting up into two squads of three. Shepard would lead Samara and Grunt while Miranda would head the squad of Garrus and Mordin.

And so the shuttle's occupants divided into their squads as the Kodiak approached one of the several hangar bays along the station's "snail shell."

"I want everyone to be combat-ready as soon as we enter," Shepard said, everyone unholstering their weapons as the order was given.

The station's shadow cast by the distant star washed over the small shuttle, and through the hangar bay, Shepard and her team entered the belly of the beast.

XXX

 **Zivos Station**

"This thing is like a damn ghost!"

"Spirits, just _shoot it_!"

"I don't see you doing any better, jackass!"

The Blue Suns maintaining the Mess Hall Chokepoint, as it had been dubbed, were in a state of chaos.

Trooper Jonathan Hazel, just 20 years of age, had been excited for his first job as part of the Blue Suns mercenary group. It had been his dream to join them ever since he was a boy; it might have been because of his dad, who was also a member, but Jonathan always thought the Suns were just so damn _cool_. In part to honor his late father's memory, and in part to feel the joy of seeing the galaxy on his own, he had signed himself up to join the Blue Suns.

Now he found himself within a waking nightmare.

As if it wasn't bad enough that the station had suffered an outbreak of monsters, those very same monsters had them surrounded and cut off from each other. The Suns didn't even have any escape craft available; they had been hired as security for the station, and if they needed transport they had to contact another Blue Suns outpost. Now, another problem had surfaced.

The bipedal alien had come bursting through the chokepoint's barricades and defenses. The same barricade that well over a dozen Xenomorphs had met their end behind. What's more, it just _appeared_ ; no extravagant reveal, no fanfare. Just a silent, highly-skilled killer that had materialized in their midst.

It seemed to shimmer in and out of existence, its every appearance marked with the spray of arterial blood as another trooper thudded into the ground. They couldn't even track it, much less hit it.

"Screw this! I'm getting out of here," one of the human troopers shouted. Before she could make an escape, a spear materialized in her spine, propelling her a short distance before she skidded to a stop, laying in a widening pool of red.

A Turian rushed straight towards the monstrous brute, attempting to utilize his shotgun's maximum potential. The monster easily sidestepped the blast, only a few pellets striking it on a patch of green, unprotected skin. It glanced down in annoyance at the luminescent green blood now dripping down its forearm before it retaliated, swiftly slicing off the Turian's arms with its extended wrist blades before silencing the screaming mercenary by cutting open his jugular.

As the monster had made painfully clear: it was better than them. Its attacks were too slow to activate their kinetic barriers, but powerful enough to do some serious damage. It carried itself as a warrior who has been in countless battles. The mercenary soldiers were simply outclassed.

A trooper to Jonathan's left gasped, falling backwards with a gaping wound the size of a dinner plate blown out of his chest. Jonathan and a trooper to his right fired everything they had at the monster that had killed their comrades, but it walked casually through the hail of bullets, seemingly uncaring at the wounds it sustained on its unarmored skin. The parts that _were_ armored though, in other words all its _vital_ areas, were completely protected by its armor.

The device on its left shoulder swiveled, aiming at another target as a red triangular targeting reticule appeared on Jonathan's comrade. In a moment's time, her head was reduced to a fine red mist.

In a room of two dozen Blue Suns mercenaries, Jonathan was the last one standing. He screamed obscenities at the monster that had killed his comrades, his _friends_. He screamed out all his rage, sorrow, and fear. He screamed because he knew that if he didn't, he'd either freeze up from paralyzing fear, or sob uncontrollably. He knew he was going to die here. There was no escaping it.

Then the monster was right in front of him. It slapped his assault rifle out his hands, no doubt glowering at him from behind its mask. Behind his own helmet, Jonathan's face was a mask of pure terror. The beast pulled back its fist, and struck him in the stomach. Jonathan gasped, falling away from his attacker.

Or, at least, he tried. Something was rooting him to the monster's fist. Even more curious was that he felt biting cold on his insides. Determined to find the root of this odd situation, Jonathan forced himself to look down. He frowned at the wrist blades sticking through his chest.

 _How did those get there,_ he wondered. _It only punched me. I would have felt it impale me, right?_ He only felt a cold numbness.

The creature yanked its blades free, Jonathan slumping to his knees. The alien marched onwards, no longer interested in him. The cold feeling was spreading throughout his body, the epicenter of which being his wound. He tried to process what just happened.

" _Jonathan… can you hear me, Jonathan?"_

The mercenary looked up, searching for the voice's origin.

 _It sounds so familiar…_

His eyes widened. His father was standing right in front of him. Jonathan frowned.

 _But how? He's dead._

" _Looks like you overworked yourself again,"_ his father said.

" _You look exhausted. Here,"_ he extended his hand.

" _Let's get you to bed, shall we?"_

This whole scenario reminded (minus the killer alien) him of his childhood. For a moment, just a moment, Jonathan pushed the events of the last five horrifying, blood-soaked minutes from his mind, and reached out his hand.

Jonathan Hazel breathed his last.

XXX

The Yautja that had been dubbed as "Ghost" by the Blue Suns in the mess hall, calmly cleaned his armaments, wiping the blood off his wrist blades with care. He retrieved his combi-stick from the corpse of the one who attempted to flee. Ghost didn't tolerate cowards. Unfortunately, none of the mercenaries he had encountered thus far had proven themselves worthy of being on his trophy wall. No matter. There were plenty of creatures on this station. And his and his hunt-brothers' mission wasn't over until there was nothing left alive. Only then could they return to their clan.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm interested in seeing what you all think of this story. What do you like about it? Any constructive criticism?**

 **Share your thoughts!**

 **Speaking of which…**

 **Thank you to WhoWritesThisCrap for taking the time to review this story. I really appreciate it.**

 **Mass Effect owned by BioWare.**

 **Aliens vs Predator owned by 20** **th** **Century Fox.**

 **Zivos Station**

The Queen was agitated. Her children were, too; they all felt the deaths of their Kin, the casualties they had accumulated from skirmishes with the Armed Prey. Fatalities against the station's defenders had mostly been negligible; it was when the three Hunters had arrived on the space station that the Hive had started to take noteworthy losses.

This was unacceptable.

The Hive would have to alter its tactics; pure swarm tactics wouldn't work as well anymore.

XXX

Specimen Three pressed itself low, stealthily slinking through the air duct the Xenomorph and two of its Kin were currently inhabiting. The drone could feel the presence of three more of its Kin close by, preparing their own ambush.

Below the group of Xenomorphs stood a relatively large squad of the Armed Prey. Three halted its advance, its Kin coming to a stop moments later. There was another scent among the Armed Prey, one that made 3 curl its lip in what passed for disgust. The Fleshless. Two of them. They offered nothing of value to the Hive; no Kin could be spawned from them. The only way they could contribute to the Hive's success was through their own deaths.

No matter. It was time to launch their ambush.

Specimen Three kicked downwards, dislodging the grille and sending it tumbling into the midst of the startled Armed Prey. Three followed it down, lancing its tail through the skull of a Fleshless. The Armed Prey were quick to react. The corridor was filled with gunfire as the Armed Prey confronted the sudden appearance of their foes.

"They're in the vents! They're in the fu-"

The mercenary's expletive was never completed, the censorship arriving in the form of a Xenomorph bursting through a floor panel and slashing his throat, the second group of Kin joining the fray.

Surrounded on both sides, the mercenaries plus android could only try their best to repel the lightning-fast attackers. The following minute was a whirlwind of frenzied close-quarters combat, tracer fire, and ear-piercing shrieks.

A mercenary was tackled to the ground, but before he was ripped apart he was able to blow the offending Xenomorph's brains out with his Carnifex. The unintended consequences of his actions consisted of the Drone's corpse collapsing and pinning him to the ground, and its acidic blood melting through his armor. Specimen 3 brought a swift end to the merc's suffering.

Another of its Kin was shredded by the combined fire of two mercs and the remaining android. Three snarled, enraged at the deaths of two of its Kin. The other three Xenomorphs shared Three's sentiment.

Three and its Kin launched themselves at the four remaining Armed Prey. Specimen Three raked its claws across the chestplate of one of the mercenaries in an upward slash, cutting through his glowing Outer Skin and sending him flying into the opposing bulkhead. The android was ripped to shreds by the vengeful Xenomorphs, the last two Blue Suns troopers meeting the same fate moments later.

Three threw up its head, the victorious screeching of the Drone and its Kin after their minute-long battle could be heard throughout the level.

XXX

Shepard's team had split into two groups of three, Miranda leading one, while the other was commanded by Shepard herself. There had been no "welcoming committee" to greet the Normandy crewmembers, something that Shepard had noted with worry. She had become used to having to fight for her life as soon as she stepped off the shuttle. She and her team would have to be wary.

Shepard signaled for the shuttle's pilot to take off; the Kodiak would be called back when one of the squads brought back some of the surviving staff members.

The sounds of distant gunfire and inhuman screeching greeted the Normandy's away team upon exiting the hangar. The group divided into their respective squads and went their separate ways, searching for Zivos' staff one level at a time.

XXX

The squad consisting of Shepard, Samara and Grunt made their way through the empty hallways, weapons drawn and at the ready. The tank-bred Krogan was perturbed; the faint sound of combat from other areas on the level was tantalizing for Grunt, and he was starting to fidget. He was craving a good fight.

He wasn't alone in his anxiousness. Shepard was constantly scanning the environment, preparing herself for an ambush whenever her squad encountered a diverging pathway.

Samara was the only one who didn't radiate anxiety; she appeared perfectly calm and collected.

Shepard came to an abrupt stop, her squadmates halting right behind her. The Spectre brought a finger up to her lips in a "Shh" gesture. Voices could be heard up ahead, the sound of words filtered through helmet speakers wafting from around the corner. These people could potentially be the ones Shepard and her team were looking for. If nothing else, perhaps they could shed some light on the nature of the station's infestation.

That was another thought that troubled her. She had yet to actually lay eyes on the things causing so much chaos. She couldn't shake the feeling that whatever it was that was loose on the research station was watching her and her squad.

Shepard shook her head, clearing her mind. Thinking things like that would only drive her insane, and where would that lead them?

 _Now, how best to introduce ourselves t-_

Screaming and gunfire simultaneously rang out, the unmistakable sound of discharging weapons filling the air along with shrill, high-pitched wailing and hissing. Prior to this explosion of noise, Shepard reckoned she heard something metal clatter to the floor.

"They're in the vents! They're in the fu-"

Whatever that person was about to say was replaced with a wet gurgle, another crash of metal appearing before the speaker "lost his voice." Shepard

Shouted cursing, more gunfire, and piercing screams immediately followed the speaker's demise, with a faint sizzling providing another layer to the cacophony.

A figure was thrown from the connecting hallway in front of Shepard's group directly into an adjacent bulkhead. He slid down the wall and crumpled in a heap on the floor. Shepard's eyes widened as the man's uniform registered in her mind. He was wearing Blue Suns armor.

A keening wail started up from the unknown assailants. The entire exchange had lasted a little over a minute, Shepard and her squad paralyzed in shock at what just happened. It only lasted for a moment, though.

Then the monsters crawled out from around the corner.

XXX

Specimen Three cut off its victory cry, slowly lowering its head as it dawned on the Xenomorph that the Armed Prey it had launched across the hallway was still alive. Wounded, but still very much living. Three snarled. It would have to correct its failure.

XXX

There were four of them in total. Nightmarish creatures with black carapaces slinked forth, closing in on the incapacitated mercenary. One of the beasts, a noticeably thinner and more wiry member of the small group of creatures, closed in more quickly than its fellows.

"Samara, quickly!"

The Asari justicar acknowledged Shepard's order by casting out her hand, fingers splayed.

A mass effect field appeared in the center of the aliens, the Singularity catching all of the creatures in its gravity and pulling them into the air. The monsters were caught by surprise, so focused were they on their prey. They flailed in the air, tails whipping back and forth as they desperately tried to right themselves.

Grunt took aim at the chitinous mass of eye-less creatures, the loud roar of his shotgun drowning out the surprised and angry hissing being emitted from them. As soon as the Krogan brought up his weapon, one of the creatures grabbed hold of one of its brethren, putting it in the line of fire and shielding itself. The blast from Grunt's weapon tore into the nightmare's meat shield, the force behind it enough to push the creature and the fresh corpse out of the Singularity's reach. Shepard and Samara finished off the two remaining beasts still caught within the gravity field.

The alien slid across the floor, kicking its meat shield's corpse away and digging its claws into the deck. It hissed at the Spectre and her squad before turning and scampering the opposite direction, disappearing around another corner.

From the brief glimpse she caught of the creature that had escaped, Shepard could swear she saw the number "3" branded on its forehead.

XXX

Loriik Tivhosk slowly and steadily sat up, the pain in his chest wound suffered by the abomination flaring up. Still, he had to count himself lucky. If his Tech Armor had been absent, he might have been cloven in half. He'd seen that happen to plenty of friends of his while on this accursed station. The Batarian opened his four eyes, gazing on the sight before him. He frowned.

Right in front of him were the corpses of two Xenomorphs, their blood burning into the floor. Over to his left, another one was lying dead in a crumpled heap. That wasn't the strangest part. No, what was _really_ strange was who had presumably saved him from the cruel fate his comrades had suffered. There was a human clad in black N7 armor conversing with a hulking Krogan and an Asari wearing a read bodysuit. How it protected her on the battlefield, he didn't know.

The human looked over to him.

"Ah, good," she said. "You're alive."

Loriik tried to stand up, but ended up collapsing back down, the pain in his chest too much to bear. The extra layer of armor had kept him from dying, but it failed to block out the entire attack.

The human approached him, administering some Medi-Gel to his wound. Almost instantly, the pain subsided and the Batarian could stand. He shakily got to his feet.

"Heh, never thought I'd be saying this to someone I just met, but thanks for saving my life," he said.

Before the red-haired woman could reply, a low, highly mechanical voice rang out.

"Intruders detected. Eliminating."

Loriik stared down the pathway the frantic skirmish had taken place to see a lone Combat Android marching steadily until it was right where the paths combined, skeletal face gazing down the scope of its rifle. It was aiming at the Asari.

Quickly, the mercenary unholstered his M-3 Predator and loosed a shot. The bullet wedged itself right between the android's eyes, causing it to crumple into a heap. The human looked at the dead android, then back to the Batarian.

"Well now," she said. "I suppose I should be thanking _you_ now."

Then the electromagnetic pulse exploded from the android's corpse, momentarily shorting out all electric signals in its vicinity. And revealing the Hunter standing like a sentinel behind the android's body.


	4. Chapter 4

**Happy New Year's Eve!**

 **I thought a good way to end off 2016 was to give this story an update. As always, I hope you enjoy!**

 **Reviews are not unwelcome.**

 **Also, Writer's Block is awful.**

 **Mass Effect owned by BioWare.**

 **Aliens vs Predator owned by 20** **th** **Century Fox.**

 **Zivos Station**

Casik Alaeo was furious. The deal he had made with Weyland-Yutani was blowing up in his face; everything had been going catastrophically wrong ever since the Xenomorphs broke out of containment. The Blue Suns commander knew when enough was enough.

The door leading to the facility's command center slid open, Casik striding through the portal with two Blue Suns troopers in tow. The command center was an oval-shaped room with a large viewport overlooking the asteroid field. Various people clad in the uniform jumpsuits of Weyland-Yutani sat hunched over at their work stations, paying the new arrivals no heed as they continued their different jobs.

Those in charge of the security cameras were glued to their screens, watching the footage with bated breath as they observed the individual skirmishes taking place over the station. The headphones employed by those crewmembers ensured that nobody else could hear what was occurring. A lavender-hued Asari widened her eyes as she gazed at a Hunter that appeared to be roaring at a squad of terrified mercenaries. A human tapped a static-filled screen in annoyance as the camera it was connected to short-circuited.

At the head of the room stood a human male in a darker-colored jumpsuit, overseeing the staff members attempting to maintain their tasks.

"Maverick!" The shout from the enraged Batarian rang out across the room. The overseer turned to regard the group of three mercenaries, brushing a strand of platinum-blond hair from his face. His lips were upturned in a smile. A duo of Combat Androids moved to block the Blue Suns' path.

"Yes, Casik? What can I do for you," the one named Maverick replied in an oily voice with the faintest hint of an English accent.

Casik wasn't in the mood for the Weyland-Yutani official's games.

"Cut the crap, Maverick. I've lost too many of my men, so therefore I'm taking matters into my own hands."

Maverick raised an eyebrow.

"And just what exactly is your proposal?"

Casik attempted to push past the androids, but the constructs were unyielding.

"What I _propose_ is killing the Queen."

The overseer's grin dropped off his face, a frown quickly replacing it.

The Batarian continued.

"We know where she's located, right? We can just use the environmental controls to flood her location with that stuff you guys used to keep the Drones sedated. The only thing different is that it's a lethal dose. Problem solved, then and there."

"No harm will come to the Queen," the robotic voice of one of the Androids announced.

Casik snapped his gaze to the robot in front of him.

"What was that?"

Maverick let out a long, dramatic sigh.

"I really wish you hadn't said that, Casik."

The Weyland-Yutani official motioned to something behind the trio of mercs, and the sound of combat boots on the polished floor brought the attention of the Blue Suns to its source. Four more Combat Androids blocked the exit, training their weapons on the mercenaries. The two robots that had been barring the way now marched to join the ranks of their fellows, bringing the squad's numbers up to six.

The deck crew scampered for cover wherever they could find it. Casik's gaze landed on Maverick while the two troopers behind them readied their own weapons.

"What is this?!" he bellowed.

Maverick shook his sad, his gaze forlorn.

"My apologies, Casik." The human signaled the firing squad to begin its work. There was a brief exchange of gunfire, but the damage inflicted upon the automatons was negligible. In stark contrast, the mercenaries were obliterated; their shields being unable to maintain themselves under the withering barrage. Their corpses slammed into the deck, blood mixing together in one large pool.

"But I have to protect my investment."

He looked at the Androids.

"Well? Get these corpses out of here. I don't want to smell the decay."

He turned back to the cowering command crew. His smile returned.

"You see that? That's what happens when you doubt The Company's methods."

XXX

Ghost cursed his luck. Had the ooman construct not sent out that EMP, he would have been able to observe the newcomers for longer. The Yautja quickly assessed the small group, chose his target, and launched himself towards the red-haired ooman. He wanted to savor the fight with the ooman's companions, and so hurried to finish her off. The four-eyed mercenary wasn't even worth consideration; he would die once Ghost's fun was over.

XXX

The masked creature moved incredibly fast, closing the distance on Shepard's group before she could fully process the new species in front of her. It cocked back a fist, then slammed it into the Spectre's chest, sending her sprawling. A pair of blades sprouted from its right-hand gauntlet, and it made use of them by stabbing them towards Shepard's head.

The Spectre twisted out of the way, the Hunter's blades tearing right through the floor. The tall alien growled in frustration. Shepard sent a kick into the creature's kneecap before it could pull its blades out, eliciting a snarl from it.

She quickly rolled away, drawing her pistol. The Hunter wrenched itself free from the floor in time to meet a head-on charge from Grunt, alerted to the Krogan's intentions from his battlecry.

The masked alien weathered the impact, digging its feet into the ground. It then retaliated with a headbutt that sent both combatants reeling. Grunt threw a punch, which was intercepted by the Hunter's own hand. The wrist blades made a reappearance, lancing into Grunt's bicep and cutting through sinewy tissue. The tank-bred Krogan hissed in pain. He wasn't incapacitated, however, and landed a kick to the Hunter's mid-section.

The Hunter disengaged from the brawl, retrieving a disc-shaped object from its belt. Six elongated blades burst forth from it, and the alien settled itself into stance that suggested it was going to throw a Frisbee. It then let out a yelp of surprise as it suddenly found itself encapsulated in a blue aura, and lifted off the ground. Samara stared coldly at it before flinging it across the hall.

The alien skidded a good distance before finally righting itself, and stared at the glowing Asari. A soft clicking was emanating from behind its mask. Shepard sent a burst of gunfire in its direction, the Hunter letting the bullets ping off its armor. It held its gaze on Samara for a second longer before scooping up the shuriken from where it had dropped it after being thrown, activated its cloak, and disappeared from sight. The faint sound of footsteps could be heard heading away from their position.

Apparently, the effects of the EMP had worn off.

The Batarian let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He could finally rest for a bit; the past several minutes had been a whirlwind of torment, both physical and emotional. He slumped against the bulkhead.

Grunt grumbled to himself in the wake of the Hunter's departure, disgruntled at the interruption to his brief-yet-invigorating duel. He applied some medi-gel to his wound.

Samara stared at the ebony-carapaced corpses. She took note of one's smaller frame, as well as its partially webbed hands. And the small horns slightly jutting out of its skull…

"Okay," Shepard said, glancing at the Batarian.

"You have some explaining to do."

XXX

Its skin felt too tight on its body. That was the thought running through Specimen Three's mind as it crawled through an empty hallway. Three knew what this meant. It had survived long enough to evolve; to join the Warrior caste.

It felt a form of excitement; as a Warrior, it could be even more useful to the Hive and its Queen.

Its pain increased. Specimen Three let out a hiss as it felt its skin bursting open, giving way to its new form. Its back split open, and it clawed its way out of its remaining layer.

Leaving its empty husk behind, Specimen Three let out a screech of triumph. Its brand, however, remained with it; so deep did it burn into its skull.

It perked its head up. It could feel several of its Kin moving in a singular direction. It followed them.


	5. Chapter 5

**A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far (WhoWritesThisCrap, Master-Debater69, and darkfinder)! It truly means a lot to me, and helps motivate me to write more.**

 **As always, reviews are welcome, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **XXX**

 **Zivos Station**

Miranda Lawson was uneasy.

She, Garrus and Mordin had been travelling down darkened, silent hallways for an indefinite amount of time, finding nothing of their mission. That in itself wasn't cause for alarm. The walls, ceiling, and floor seemed to be sculpted from some type of solidified liquid resin.

Her first thought was of the Collectors, and their partially organic-looking interior of their starships. However, just by looking at it she could tell that it didn't match the insectoids' aesthetic sense. This resin was entirely black; indeed, it seemed to suck up all light in the area, leaving only darkness in its place.

Garrus was on full alert, constantly scanning the shadowy corridors down the scope of his Vindicator for any signs of movement. He cursed under his breath when it became clear he was wasting his time; the "webbing" coating the environment made it nearly impossible to distinguish any and all visual cues. It would make it very easy for the group to be ambushed. Garrus didn't like being ambushed.

Mordin seemed to be the only one thoroughly intrigued by the peculiar substance.

"Warmer temperature in areas containing resin suggests manipulation of temperature. Or perhaps, material merely grows in warmer climates?"

Miranda quickened her pace, her squadmates following suit.

"Let's keep moving. We'll find someone eventually."

As the squad navigated through the maze-like corridors, they didn't notice the shadows that detached from the walls, silently pursuing them.

XXX

Specimen Three joined up with its Kin on their journey, navigating the twisting passageways of the Hive. The Queen was sending them somewhere; that much was for certain. Three could hear Her guiding it, and assumed the others felt the same.

The miniature swarm of Xenomorphs exited the familiar, resin-coated environment and stepped forth onto the cold, polished floor. This area was not yet secure; once the Armed Prey had been totally eradicated, then the Drones could continue the process of terraforming the station.

Why the Armed Prey hadn't already been destroyed was a question that Three and its cohorts would soon correct.

The hallway ahead of them terminated in a door, utterly unremarkable save for the fact that it barred their path. Although the path branched off to the left, the Queen's guidance insisted that the way they were going was past the closed door.

The door was locked, as shown by the orange holographic symbol in its center. The Xenomorphs couldn't make use of the Armed Prey's glowing arm devices to bypass the lock, and the group lacked any Spitters among them.

However, all hope was not lost.

From their number strode a member of a New Caste. This Xenomorph, much unlike its brethren, was a pale white; a stark contrast from the ebony carapaces of its Kin. Furthermore, it favored standing on its hind legs rather than on all four. As a result of this, it could stand up straighter than the Xenomorphs around it.

Its Kin parted ranks to allow it through, waiting for the New Caste member to show its solution of bypassing the blocked portal.

A blue aura flared up around its body as it reared its head back. Once its attack was fully charged, the pale Xenomorph let loose an ear-bursting scream, its intensity rivaling that of even a Queen's. The biotically-charged soundwave making contact with the metal door, rending it asunder.

Their path no longer obstructed, the Xenomorphs flooded into the newly-opened room. Said room was an atrium, the area above marked with a lattice work of bridges and gangways allowing unhindered movement to higher levels.

The atrium had signs of battle. Corpses belonging to the Armed Prey as well as Kin littered the floor in various poses of death. Some of them, most notably Kin, were riddled with bullet holes. However, some of the Armed Prey's bodies also sported gunshot wounds, suggesting friendly fire. Yet more cadavers sported lacerations and puncture marks, as if they were slashed and impaled by a highly-skilled swords master. One of the Armed Prey was lying face down towards the entrance, one hand stretched in front of him, as if in his last moments of life he was reaching for salvation. Unfortunately for him, his fatal wound put an end to that dream, and any other dream he would have had; there was a sizeable chunk missing from the back of his head, the probable cause being a headbite received from a Xenomorph.

Specimen Three and its brethren surveyed the environment, searching for the quarry their Queen had sent them after.

From two levels above, another door slid open, and from it a dark shape was hurled, pitching over the railing and dropping to the floor below. The shape was revealed to be a headless Drone, drops of acidic blood splatting on the floor tiles and hissing as they made contact.

The eight Xenomorphs hissed in agitation at the sight of their deceased sibling. Loud, booming footsteps emanated from the other side of the door, drawing the attention of the Queen's envoys.

A Hunter, clad in full armor and wielding a Combi-Stick, stood in the doorway, illuminated by the lighting behind it. On its weapon was an impaled Xenomorph head.

As one, the Xenomorphs screeched their fury, their cries joined by the Hunter's own war cry. Whereas the nightmarish creatures' were shrill and panic-inducing, the Yautja's shout was a deep baritone, amplified by the speakers in its snub-nosed Bio-Mask.

Pointing its weapon at the group of Xenomorphs, the Hunter vaulted over the railing and dropped towards its opponents.

XXX

It had been long and arduous, with the sinister feeling of being watched looming over them for practically the entire journey. The threat of the unknown creatures infesting the station was quite real. The fact that Miranda and her squad had yet to actually see these creatures weighed heavily on her mind.

Finally, the Cerberus operative glanced down at the motion tracker application on her Omni-Tool, halting in her advance so as to not walk blindly into an ambush. Mordin and Garrus stopped beside her, watching both ends of the passageway to ensure nothing would sneak up on them.

Miranda ground her teeth in frustration. The motion tracker was picking up a host of sporadic movement signals, just as it had when she had previously checked it. This meant one of two things: first, the enemy (she still wasn't sure just _what_ the enemy was) had them completely surrounded and were just waiting for the opportune time to strike, or the tracker was acting buggy. Of course, now that she thought about it, it could be entirely possible for the strange resin to be screwing with the tracker's operation, though she wasn't sure how.

"Keep checking behind us to see if we're being followed. For now, we'll just keep going straight."

"So… what we've been doing, then?" Garrus quipped.

"Yes Garrus, exactly," Miranda replied.

They continued forward for just a couple more meters when the air around them erupted in high-pitched noise. Behind them, shadowy creatures seemingly pulled themselves out of the walls and ceilings, staring at the Normandy crewmembers with eyeless gazes. The three squadmates instantly trained their weapons on them. A terrible hissing arouse from the area in front of them, causing Miranda to whip her head back around to see another group of the carapaced creatures that had materialized without them noticing.

Slowly, the ebony monsters began to advance, penning in the Cerberus operative and the people under her command.

They were trapped.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm back! First off, I'd like to apologize for the extreme break between updates. Finals mixed with projects and good ol' Writer's Block is not a good combination. So, to make up for my absence, this chapter is a bit longer than the others.**

 **Shout outs: thank you to darkfinder, Ranschaj, and everyone else who was stuck with this story so far. Your support means a lot to me.**

 **Now with all the sappy stuff out of the way, let's get on with the chapter!**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy.**

 **Mass Effect belongs to BioWare.**

 **AvP belongs to 20** **th** **Century Fox.**

 **XXX**

 **Zivos Station**

"So what you're telling us," Shepard began, "is that these… _things_ … are just some lab experiments gone wrong?"

Loriik stifled a laugh.

"Well, you're half right. Yes, they are experiments, but they haven't 'gone wrong,' as you say. They are _perfect_ killers. Weyland-Yutani made a good investment in them."

"This company must have a substantial amount of trust in its employment if it shares its secrets with hired guns," Samara remarked.

The Batarian snorted.

"Ha! The word 'trust' shouldn't ever be mentioned in the same sentence with 'The Company.' They only tell us what we need to know: where to guard and how to guard it. If there's even the smallest chance that someone could leak The Company's secrets, that person gets shot. The only reasons why I know _anything_ about the Xenomorphs are because some of this station's scientists can't shut up about their 'work,' and because _I've fought them myself_."

"Although… _tried_ would be a better word to summarize my efforts." He gazed downward, somberly recalling the deaths of his squadmates.

Shepard stepped forwards.

"Now the only thing you haven't explained is the presence of that masked creature."

Loriik shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know! They just showed up not that long ago!"

Urdnot Grunt perked up at the Hunter's mention.

"They?" he repeated.

The mercenary grimaced.

"Yeah. There's three of them. And they're all _very_ good at their job."

"Any information you'd like to share regarding them?" the Spectre inquired.

The Batarian placed a gloved hand over the claw marks on his chest plate, grunting in displeasure as his palm slithered over the damage. He didn't much care for the new feeling of vulnerability it left him.

"I only know what I've heard from the radio chatter of other squads," he said at last.

"Besides, I think it's time for me to ask _you_ some questions. It's not that I'm ungrateful for your help; I would just like to know a little bit more about the strangers onboard this station. First off: who the hell are you?"

Grunt started forward, a growl resonating in the back of his throat.

"You will show respect towards my Battlemaster, worm! Fail to do that, and I'll rip your spine from your body."

"Grunt, that's enough," Shepard chastised. The tank-bred Krogan gave a 'humph' before stepping back.

The Spectre turned back to Loriik, only to find the Batarian having increased the distance between himself and Shepard's squad to a good seven feet. She beckoned him over. Loriik reluctantly complied.

"To answer your question," Shepard said, "my name is Shepard, Spectre and commander of the SSV Normandy."

The mercenary's eyes widened to a comedic proportion.

"Y-you're serious?"

Shepard nodded.

"W-well, then," he coughed, "I guess that's enough questions from me. If you were here to kill us, I doubt you'd have saved me from the bugs."

"Our mission is to evacuate everyone from this station. We could use some help navigating this station, though."

Loriik, having recovered from his earlier shock, nodded.

"I can guide you to the secondary Communications Hub. With me by your side, the Blue Suns won't shoot at you."

"'Secondary Communications Hub?" Samara raised a brow.

"What's wrong with the primary hub?"

"And why do you even need two of them? This space station isn't like Krogan; it needs no redundant systems."

Loriik sighed.

"Let's walk and talk; we've stayed in one place for far too long. I'll answer any of your questions on the way."

"Agreed," Shepard stated. She unholstered her assault rifle.

"Lead the way."

XXX

Yautja lived for the Hunt. It gave them purpose. It gave them status. It gave them experience.

The Hunter had lived through more Hunts than he could count, both for sport and against the Kainde Amedha. Over the course of his life, he had encountered many creatures that had either turned and fled from him, or faced him head-on.

Fighting against a Yeyinde, a Brave One, was an incredibly rewarding experience: they could die an honorable death, while the Hunter would gain a trophy that he could look at and fondly remember his duel.

Because of this gratifying feeling, he had taken it upon himself to separate the cowards from the Brave Ones. This decision had culminated in him adding customizations to his Bio-Mask. Among these modifications was a voice amplifier.

Other species viewed the Yautja as intimidating (and for good reason), so the Hunter utilized his voice amplifier to play on their fear. He would scream as loud as he could, the amplifier transforming his cry into a blood-curdling wail. Once his opera of terror was over, he would fight whatever didn't run away.

His methods were frowned upon by his Hunt-Brothers, for they were immersed in the techniques of the Shadow Striker Clan; a Clan that encouraged the approach of stealth over brawn. The Hunter didn't care what his Hunt-Brothers thought; he was no Bad Blood, and he had not violated the Honor Code. He could do as he pleased.

So it was with this modus operandi that the Hunter earned his nickname among the Pyode Amedha: "Banshee."

When the translators in his Bio-Mask relayed the name's significance to him, he had been delighted to have been named after the ethereal figure. He would continue to emulate his namesake and cause as much terror as he could.

However, now was not the time for terror tactics. Not against something that was terror personified.

These were Banshee's thoughts as he plummeted towards the group of Kainde Amedha below him.

XXX

Specimen Three was the first to react to the descending Hunter, diving out of the way to avoid being crushed by the Hated One's bulk. Its Kin followed suit. The only casualty was a Drone who had been a millisecond too slow, and suffered with the Despised's spear skewering it through its cranium.

Three looked upon the Despised's imposing figure, its lip curling back in a snarl.

 _HATE IT! KILL IT! TEAR IT LIMB FROM LIMB!_

The Queen's hatred was translated into corporeal action, the Xenomorphs pouncing at the ancient enemy of their species. The member of the New Caste withheld its powers to avoid catching its Kin in the line of fire, instead retreating into the background.

The Despised expertly rolled out of the way of the leaping Xenomorphs, coming up to one knee and grabbing a discus from its belt. The discus sprouted a rim of blades, now resembling a rising sun with stretching rays. The Hated One let the shuriken fly, not even watching the projectile embed itself in a Drone's skull as it blocked a strike from another Warrior. The two stood at eye-level. The Warrior hissed before dropping its jaw, the Xenomorph's inner mouth in full view.

The Hated One moved its head to the side, barely managing to avoid the Warrior's close-range attack. The Xenomorph now had a vulnerable part of its body in close proximity to the Hated One, however, and the Hunter took advantage. With impressive speed, the Hated One grabbed hold of the Warrior's inner jaw, and ripped it from its place in the Xenomorph's mouth.

The Warrior howled, acidic blood geysering out of its wound. It lashed out with its bladed tail, opening a gash on the Despised's thigh. The Hunter let out a snarl before slicing open the Warrior's throat with its spear.

The Hunter was quick to flick the blood from its spear, reducing the risk of corrosion on its weapon.

Now was time for the New Caste to show its worth in a fight.

The pale Xenomorph gathered a significant amount of blue aura around itself, rearing back as it did so.

The Hated One was preoccupied with a Runner. The canine-like Xenomorph, its ebony skin appearing like scales, glided around the Hated One, staying just outside the Hunter's killing arc, but close enough to still pose a threat the Hunter.

Its target suitably distracted, the pale Xenomorph let loose another of its piercing screams, the biotic attack racing towards the Hunter. The Hunter turned towards the sound at the last moment, buffeted back by the biotic waves. The Runner had long since retreated to a safe distance once the pale Xenomorph's attack was ready.

The Despised, not expecting such a powerful assault, was knocked down, its spear flung from its fingers and clattering to the floor, at the feet of a Drone. Three's Kin hissed as thick rivulets of saliva cascaded from its mouth, its ire raised from the sight of the helpless Despised.

XXX

"Cjit!" Banshee cursed.

Stupid. Stupid! _**Stupid!**_

It had been incredibly idiotic of him to completely ignore a Kainde Amedha, especially one that was an unknown variable. It was downright _amateurish._

And now that mistake had cost him his combi-stick. Even now he could see it being kicked away by a spiteful Drone.

No matter.

He was far from defenseless.

The Drone that had kicked his combi-stick launched itself towards him, arms and legs splayed, its claws and tail aimed directly for Banshee's throat.

In one fluid motion, the Yautja rolled into a kneeling position, wrist blades extended from both of his gauntlets, and scythed through the Xenomorph's form. The Drone's head slammed into the deck, followed moments later by its torso, with its legs being the last to hit the ground. Its blood started to pool from the three dismembered pieces that used to form a whole body.

One more Drone, enraged at its sibling's dismemberment, attempted to avenge its slain comrade. Its efforts resulted in its read rolling away from the freshly-made corpse on the ground. He flicked the blood from his blades, more of a reflex than anything else; one born from a time in his youth when he didn't have the acid-resistant material he now sported.

Banshee turned his attention to the pale Xenomorph. It would _not_ catch him off-guard again.

Another projectile was launched from the Kainde Amedha, this time a blue orb. Banshee dodged out of the way, turning his attention back to the offending Xenomorph as soon as he was out of harm's way.

A red, triangular laser painted itself on the biotic Xenomorph's forehead. Mandibles flared behind his Bio-Mask, Banshee prepared to avenge his earlier tactical hiccup.

Two orbs of plasma were launched from the Yautja's shoulder-mounted Plasma Caster, the two iridescent spheroids making a beeline for the pale Kainde Amedha.

What passed for a grin lit up Banshee's face as the plasma moved ever closer to the biotic…

The grin was replaced by a scream of rage as the Runner made a sudden reappearance, leaping into the line of fire, shielding the biotic Xenomorph with its own body.

The Runner was blasted apart by the first plasma orb's impact and subsequent explosion, its frail body unable to cope with the unstable matter making contact. The second orb passed through the newly-formed acid blood-mist, and impacted against its original target.

The pale Xenomorph was blasted to the ground, somehow still alive after the damage it had sustained. A shimmering blue aura flickered in and out of existence before finally dispersing seemed to be the explanation for its continued survival. Evidently, the barrier hadn't been strong enough to alleviate all the damage it had received before it broke.

The other Warrior, the one with an ooman digit inscribed on its forehead, skittered across the floor, positioning itself to the Yautja's side, then launching towards him with claws outstretched. Banshee whipped around to face his assailant, bringing up his wristblades and slicing through the Xenomorph, leaving a wound in the shape of an X across its chest. The Kainde Amedha collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain.

The momentary distraction was all the biotic needed to right itself. Skin melting from the incredible temperature of the plasma, the Xenomorph attempted to limp away. Banshee wouldn't let that transpire.

He fell into a dead run, sprinting towards the escaping Xenomorph. His quarry turned towards him, letting out a hoarse hissing sound. Another flare of its blue aura, and it was throwing a punch. Banshee skidded across the floor, turning on his heel to avoid the incoming fist, and then making a swing of his own.

The Xenomorph danced backwards, still surprisingly nimble despite the amount of damage it sustained. Its tail whipped out, parrying his right-hand wristblades before wrapping around his left gauntlet. Not wasting its advantage, its inner mouth darts out. Banshee roars in pain as small teeth burst through his Bio-Mask and eye socket. But with its success in wounding him, the Kainde Amedha had sealed its fate. Now entangled with its opponent, the Xenomorph could do nothing to stop Banshee from bringing his right hand into the side of its face, the extended wristblades impaling it through its skull.

Banshee wrenched the corpse's inner mount off of him, grunting in displeasure as well as pain as his eyeball accompanied the Xenomorph's body on its journey to the ground, still trapped within its inner jaws. Iridescent green blood mixed with acidic ichor on the blood-soaked and scorched deck. The floor now contained pock marks where acid had burned holes in it, in addition to new corpses to go along with the Blue Suns and other Xenomorphs that had been there before.

With the Kainde Amedha swarm dealt with, Banshee allowed himself to indulge in a moment of rest.

It was a mistake.

In an instant, a black blur at his side accompanied a sharp pain in his left arm. The Xenomorph stood hunched over, the X-shaped scar on its chest no longer leaking blood and already starting to scab over. Banshee's arm lay on the ground, severed at the elbow, where no armor protected. In an incredibly spiteful gesture, the ebony creature continued its assault on the severed limb, completely destroying the gauntlet, along with every one of its advanced systems. The creature's tantrum finally ended with it stomping on the ruined mess that had once been Banshee's arm.

He didn't know if the beast understood the magnitude of its destructive outburst, or was just venting its pent-up frustration. It didn't matter. Its actions, and the result of its actions, was already in the past.

The shock at seeing the self-destruct device, his last resort in the case of removing all traces of his existence as well as giving him an honorable death, allowed the Kainde Amedha to launch another attack.

With a shrill scream, the Kainde Amedha slashed its claws across his Bio-Mask, marring the smooth metal. It hooked its fingers into the wound it had created in the Bio-Mask, wrenching it from Banshee's head and exposing the Yautja's face to the environment.

It placed a foot against his chest before kicking him onto the ground.

The Xenomorph crouched, ready to spring towards the Yautja and finish him off.

A loud, deep, rumbling roar broke the tension.

Banshee gazed upward, and what he saw made his spirit sink.

XXX

Specimen Three did not need to look up in order to know what was arriving. It could _feel_ them, their minds interacting with one another, with Three's own mind.

More Kin had come, drawn by the sounds of battle and the distress of their siblings. Even now, Warriors were climbing down the atriums walls, navigating across various bridges and dropping down to the floor below.

And then, Three felt it. The mind of a Young One just beyond the bottom level's open door.

XXX

Banshee felt the Warriors pin him to the floor. He knew why they were keeping him alive. Never in his long life had he known such fear.

The Head-Grabber's spidery legs, while quiet, didn't make zero noise. The Head-Grabber's skittering, along with its whipping tail, gave Banshee a good estimate of its location.

The Warriors didn't restrain his remaining arm. Evidently, they assumed he was too weak to resist.

He would not let that insult stand.

A soft _whoosh_ arose from where the Head-Grabber made its leap, calculating its jump so that its downward arc would land it on top of Banshee's face.

Only, it never made it there.

With a roar of defiance, Banshee activated the extension of his wristblades. The larval Kainde-Amedha suddenly found itself on the receiving end of a pair of blades, intercepted before it could reach its goal. The Head-Grabber let out a dying wheeze as its lifeblood dribbled down the length of the twin blades.

The hysterical shrieks of the Kainde Amedha was apoplectic.

The Warrior with the digit engraved on its forehead, scarred by his blades, loomed over him, bladed tail descending towards his face.

It was the last thing Banshee ever saw.

XXX

The trio of Miranda, Mordin, and Garrus closed ranks, facing the monstrosities on either side of them. Said monstrosities were slowly slinking forward, hunched low to the resin-covered floor. Their sleek forms, added with their ability to blend in with their surroundings, made for very difficult targets.

Fortunately, the Cerberus operative had a plan. With a quick spoken warning to her comrades, Miranda gathered a torrent of biotic energy, then released it towards the creatures in front of her. The monsters were lifted up into the air, and amidst surprised squealing, were dashed back into the ground, their lithe bodies smashed from the impact.

Taking advantage of the newly-created opening, the squad committed themselves to a full retreat, the Turian and Salarian laying down suppressing fire.

Alas, Miranda's actions provided a less-than-desirable effect. The nightmarish creatures at their backs, far larger in numbers than the group Miranda had thrown, launched themselves into a dead sprint, utilizing all four of their limbs to increase their speed.

In practically no time at all, the vanguard of the ebony creatures caught up to the fleeing Normandy crewmembers. The leading creature drew back a claw for a swipe, only to be met with a hail of bullets from Mordin's Tempest. Garrus unloaded a three-round burst into the alien behind the now-deceased leader.

Miranda readied another Throw.

"Back!" She exclaimed through clenched teeth. Her comrades didn't need to be told twice; they were already behind her when she readied her attack. Another blue wave washed down the corridor, picking up and tossing away the lighter-weighted creatures, and causing the heavier ones to skid backwards, their claws digging into the ground for support.

Miranda had to fight to keep herself standing; using so much biotic energy in such short increments was physically taxing. Garrus supported her while Mordin continued to lay down suppressing fire.

He was so focused on the creatures in front of him that he failed to notice the narrow passageway snaking off to his left. And from that passageway came another one of the beasts, the creature barreling down the corridor whilst letting loose a keening wail.

However, the noise the creature produced gave ample warning for Mordin to face the new threat.

Turning and priming his Omni-Tool, the Salarian launched an orange, glowing plasma round into his attacker's center of mass. The monster fell backwards, screaming itself hoarse as the Incinerate melted through its chest cavity.

While the scientist was preoccupied by the distracting ebony monstrosity, more of the nightmares closed the gap between the squad and themselves, hurling themselves towards the Normandy crew members at high speeds.

In a split-second decision, Miranda wrenched herself away from Garrus, and raced in front of Mordin. Nobody under her command would be dying today. Yet again channeling her biotic powers, Miranda threw up her hands in a defensive stance, as if shielding her squadmate from the looming terrors. A blue biotic dome was conjured into existence, serving as a bulwark against the horde.

The pouncing creatures were reflected off the dome's side, their speed betraying them as they slammed into the wall at high velocities.

Miranda couldn't hold it for long; she was already exhausted from using her biotics. The barrier collapsed, and now it was Mordin's turn to support her. The bug-like creatures near them were still dazed from their impact. Garrus finished them off with well-placed bursts from his rifle.

The three squadmates utilized the momentary reprieve to put as much distance between themselves and the abominations they had encountered. Garrus, being the only one of the group who was not encumbered, took point, the barrel of his gun tracking the shadows around them.

"Must make haste," Mordin stated in his usual rapid-fire way.

"Need to leave this hive."

"Hive?" Garrus' tone was questioning, and he inclined his head toward the scientist in a non-verbal request for the Salarian to continue his line of thinking.

"Yes, hive. Explains the odd resin coating environment, and creatures' fierce defense. We're in their home, and Workers defend it."

"Which gives us even more incentive… to get out of here," Miranda said, the act of forming words almost being too much for her.

Her biotics had taxed her more than she had thought. The fact that all of her attacks had been charged in some way, and that she hadn't been given proper time to 'cool down' after using her attacks, didn't help matters.

Garrus groaned in frustration as the squad encountered the end of the long hallway. A dead end.

"Great. Just _great_ ," Garrus said aloud.

"There were branching pathways back the way we came," Mordin offered.

"We should take one of those."

With a chorus of agreement from Miranda and Garrus, the trio turned around, and set off once again.

XXX

Specimen Three was distraught.

Although it had succeeded in killing the Despised, that still didn't excuse the loss of the rest of its Kin-Pack, and the death of the Young One. Had the infant reached the Despised's face, the Hive would have gained a valuable asset.

But now, due to Three's oversight, that potential was never realized.

The Warriors had long since departed, spurred on by whatever directive the Queen had given them.

The Queen was disappointed with it. Why else hadn't She given it a directive? Why wasn't it to accompany the other Warriors? Disappointment with its failure was the only explanation Three could come up with.

So it stayed in the atrium, filled with self-loathing, staring down at the corpse of the Despised.

 _Little One…_

Three's head shot up. The Queen was… conversing with it? Did She feel its sorrow? Or did She wish for it to be known that She no longer tolerate its existence? Failing the Queen was the worst action a Kin could take; if a Kin couldn't be useful, then it wouldn't have a place in the Hive.

 _Why do you linger? You still have much to do in the Hive's service. Claim the rest of the Prey's nest._

With that, the Queen's presence in Three's mind departed.

The Xenomorph's depression dissipated immediately after the Queen's order, brief though Her presence was. The doubts in Three's mind had been laid to rest. The Queen wasn't upset at the deaths of Three's Kin. If She was, she hadn't made it known. One of the Despised was dead, so the Xenomorph's attack was a success.

There was no need to mope.

The fact remained that Specimen Three had been given a directive. Paying no more heed to the carnage around it, Three scampered up a nearby wall, and climbed onto one of the room's many walkways, exiting through an open door.

It would not disappoint its Queen.

XXX

The trio of Mordin, Miranda and Garrus had backtracked, taking a series of interconnected pathways that they came across.

They weren't "stumbling around in the dark," however. Prior to boarding, EDI had seen fit to upload a map to their Omni-Tools after conducting a scan of the station. The map was proving extremely useful in the labyrinthine hive; it utilized the user's Omni-Tool to project an estimation of their position on the map. The only problem was that they didn't know how far the hive extended; for all they knew, the rest of the station (minus the area around where they had docked at) was covered in the hive resin, and swarming with more of those… _things_.

Miranda had recovered somewhat from her exertion, and could now walk on her own without having to be supported. Garrus was still the trailblazer, followed by the Cerberus operative, with Mordin bringing up the rear.

There had been a strange absence of Bugs ever since their full-on assault, and the eerie quiet greatly unnerved the three Normandy crewmembers.

Were the Bugs intelligent enough to plan a sneak attack?

 _Of course they are_ , Miranda thought.

 _They've done it once to us already. We're in_ their _domain; they hold all the advantages._

The dim lighting wasn't helping, either. It had progressed to the point where they had to use the flashlight attachment on their weapons just to see a few yards in front of them. Mordin made sure to check behind them every so often, making sure they weren't being followed.

They were still too vulnerable…

What sounded like something spitting out a loogey alerted the group a split second before a thick, sickly-green blob impacted against Mordin's back.

The source of the projectile was revealed to be a Bug, albeit a variant of the ones they had previously fought. Exact details of its appearance were limited to what was illuminated by the flashlight beams, but they could just make out a crest on its head, with what appeared to be yellow-green pustules on either side of its skull. Whereas the other Bugs had an ebony exoskeleton, this variant's body had more of a blueish hue to it.

A loud hissing accompanied by a gasp of pain from Mordin drew sharp glances from his squadmates. The area the substance had impacted was being melted through by said substance. The skin beneath Mordin's armor was being severely burned by the revealed acid.

"Take it down!"

With the shouted order from Miranda, the squad opened fire on the Bug variant. The Acid-Spewer weaved its way around the hail of bullets for a short amount of time, crawling on the walls and ceiling to avoid being hit, until one of its acid pouches was grazed by a mass-accelerated round. The resulting explosion from the ruptured pouch was enough to tear the Bug apart amidst a spray of the corrosive substance.

Unfortunately, the creature was able to get off another shot at the Salarian; this time the gobbet of acid impacted against Mordin's hip.

With the Acid-Spewer's death, the signal for the rest of the Bugs to attack was sounded. From the shadows came another swarm of the things, clamoring over each other to tear the intruders apart.

The front ranks were met by a hail of gunfire, but still they pressed on.

Miranda unleashed a Slam into the next rank of Bugs, smashing them into the floor after suspending them in mid-air for just a few moments.

The other Bugs, now wary of Miranda and her comrades, halted their mindless charge, instead keeping out of the line of fire by constantly shifting between floor, wall and ceiling. Using this strategy, they were slowly closing in on the intruders while taking far fewer casualties.

It was at this time, staring down a living, shifting mass of claws and teeth, that Mordin made a decision.

"Get out of here!" He shouted at his two companions.

"What?" Garrus shouted.

"I will delay them while you escape."

Miranda blasted the brains out of a Bug that was getting way too close for her liking, the body dropping from its position on the ceiling to the floor below.

"That's not an option!" Miranda yelled.

"It's the _only_ option!" Mordin countered, after riddling another beast with bullets.

"My injuries prevent me from keeping pace with you," Mordin reasoned.

"Against these creatures, speed is imperative."

A Bug was within leaping distance now, and it lunged towards the center of the group. Before it could reach its destination, it was thrown backwards into its brethren by a three-round burst.

Although Miranda was loathe to admit it, Mordin was right. These things were incredibly fast, and could easily catch up to them even without an injured member.

The acid was still burning through the Salarian's skin. At this rate, Mordin wouldn't even be fit to walk, much less flee with them from the nightmarish Bugs.

The Cerberus operative took a deep breath before addressing Mordin's decision.

"It was an honor to get to know you, Mordin."

Garrus was incredulous.

"You can't be ser-"

"And I, you," Mordin responded, cutting the Turian off.

"Tell Shepard that I'm glad she recruited me."

Miranda's only response was a solemn nod. Garrus stared at the ground, eyes full of sorrow.

"Farewell."

With that final word, the group split apart, Mordin charging towards the chittering horde with his weapon blazing, and Garrus and Miranda disappearing into the inky darkness of the corridor.

XXX

Nothing got past Weyland-Yutani. Nothing. There were cameras all over the station, providing a constant stream of information to the operators in the command center. Through one such camera, the exchange between the Blue Suns mercenary and the Asari, Krogan, and Human was recorded. This camera was brought back online from its encounter with the Android's EMP through a system of rerouted power.

Maverick clicked his tongue in a disappointed 'tsk' sound.

"You see, _this_ …" he addressed the employees in the room with him, gesturing towards the screen.

"…is why we shouldn't hire mercenaries. I mean _come on_! Are they really without loyalty as to betray The Company at the first containment breach they encounter? Honestly, we're better off without them."

He called over a Combat Android, distinguishable by its bulkier frame compared to the other models.

"I regret to inform you," he began in a mock-sincere voice, "that the Blue Suns have violated Clause 66-b of our contract. You know what to do."

"Acknowledged," the Android replied in its heavily-robotic voice. It relayed the appropriate orders to the rest of the Combat Androids on the station via the transmission implant embedded within its head.

As it did this, Maverick let out a dramatic sigh.

 _Just can't find good help these days._


End file.
